Mal'akh
by Plinkoid
Summary: I would die for you over and over and over...  K2
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

No one knows this, but I was born two months prematurely.

Theoretically, I should have been born the same day as Kyle Broflovski.

No one's told me. It's just one of those things I know. I was created at the same time he started to exist. Surely, it had been my eagerness to live who had contributed to my early arrival in this world.

No one knows this because my mother is the kind of person who doesn't give a damn about details like pregnancies. Of course I appreciate her; I am merely stating the truth.

My earliest memory is of her getting mercilessly beaten. Although my parents' disputes are quite common, the ones I recall from the time when I was three years old were definitely the worst, by far.

Of course, like any other normal child I had placed the blame on myself. Now that I am older I can safely assure that it was indeed my fault.

My father had been caught up in a vortex of jealous rage. There had been no way that the second child his wife had put into this world was his. The angelic features and ethereal beauty of his child had convinced him that his wife had cheated on him at some point or another.

My second memory was of her breaking quietly into my room in the dead of the night. She had been carrying a hooded long sleeved shirt and a big woolly scarf. Covering my mane of golden hair and hiding away the traits of my face she had made me promise to not show my face in the household ever again. When I had questioned her in a muted tone she had simply answered.

"Because you're an angel babe and people would get jealous if they knew," she whispered in a thick southern accent.

The words must have been pronounced in some form of endearment. But it was also one of those things I just knew. I really _was_ an angel.

My family had always brought me to church. The Sunday that had followed that night I had stared up at the winged being portrayed in one of the stained glasses. From behind my scarf I questioned my mother who was sitting by me. Starting from the night where she covered me up the beatings had dimmed and she seemed much happier.

"Angel?" I piped up as best as I could with my muffled voice.

My mother had nodded soberly as she explained how angels surveyed us from up above.

Then all I can remember from then on to my debut in preschool was my constant questioning. "Why was I on Earth? Shouldn't I be up above?"

It wasn't obsessive; I had approached it in a childish manner, just searching for a simple answer. But patience proved to be useful as the answer appeared when I entered preschool.

The answer had been Kyle Broflovski.

To this day I haven't found the reason, but it still remains in the list of "things I just know".

The first time I went over to his house I had silently gaped at the importance attributed to religion in the household. If there had been one thing I had learned about angels it was that they were somehow related to God and God was related to religion.

So when everyone had fallen asleep I had snuck downstairs to the Broflovskis' large library which had been filled with religious texts.

And the determining factor of my adventurous childhood had been the Tanakh. Skimming through it I had frowned down at the large and intricate words that didn't belong in my six years old vocabulary.

Had I not found the passage, had the book been in Hebrew, had I never been invited to Kyle's that night, maybe I would have spent the next years of my life differently. But none of those things had happened. What happened was that I read the following words; '_Once an angel's task is finished it will cease to exist'_.

I had dropped the book as if it scorched my skin although my hands were gloved and bolted out of the living room.

Unknowing of what my task was I had lived my life as if it could have been ripped away from me and went all out. I lived life at the fullest attempting to experience everything I could before I disappeared and slightly uncaring of the consequences. Of course I didn't stray away from Kyle, but only because I couldn't. Not for a long time anyway. But let's not get into that.

My childhood, all of ours, had been populated by adventures and incredible happenings.

Surely enough, as consequence of rushing head first into life, often I fell. As in I _died_. And to disprove my insanity over believing myself to be an angelic entity, I came back without fail each time.

I lived in this manner for years.

Until it came to me that after all that time I still hadn't answered the question I had asked myself at three years of age. What was I doing here?

It felt as if I had crammed so much living in such a small gape of time that by the time I entered high school I had already been tired with the lifestyle I lead.

I had no clue what my task was. I had no clue what I was. I had no clue who I was anymore, I had kept myself hidden from others for so long, I couldn't even recognise myself anymore.

I had been in need of guidance.

I spent the first month of high school closed away in a library, everyone had thought I had suddenly become studious all of a sudden and because no one knew me well enough, no one questioned it. I was actually trying to find the answer.

It was hard to find answers on a subject that was treated as a myth. My research only highlighted the contradictions in the different '_facts'_ concerning angelic beings.

But often, when I saw a representation of an angel, I would skim my fingers across the ink that painted the wings, wishing I had them. Popular culture seemed to point at angels earning their wings and I dreamed of completing my task earning wings and flying away.

But there was no use. Sure, at first it made sense that my mission was to save the boy Kyle Broflovski, after all he was very frail and had a very delicate state of health. But that lead to nothing, he was combative enough to fend for himself, his best friend cared about him too deeply to let him go and I had saved him before. Many, many, _many_ times. And it all added up to one thing: my mission was not to save him.

Those are the events that lead me to attempt to have a spiritual connection to God. My mind had always linked the image of angels to the image of God. My research had showed that angels play a part in most religions; I only turned to Roman Catholicism out of sheer easiness.

When I had turned fifteen I stole my parents' booze money and had purchased my first birthday present ever. The silver rosary always remained on me, hidden away behind my hooded coat and pressing coolly against my racing heart. When they had discovered, they had beaten me of course.

By the time we entered junior year it had dawned to me that I would have to apply for the same colleges as Kyle, the hardworking studious one of our group. Why? I just had to be where he was, other one of those things I just know…

Turning my lamentable results around, I secretly maintained the highest average a student had ever had at South Park High School.

Now surely people would have questioned me as to why I had gone to the daredevil who barely passed his classes to the religious and bookish person that I now was, I'm sure they would have, had they noticed.

I breathed out deeply, exhaling warm air into the bone-chilling cold night. The Christmas break was wrapping up and school would start again after tomorrow, I had barely had enough time to file all my scholarship and college applications. None of us had seen each other over the break, all extremely nervous and nerve-wrecked at the thought of entering university. I, of course applied to the same colleges Kyle had, without consulting him. Because I just _knew_ which ones he would apply for.

Now I could put that stress behind me. And concentrate on the task at hand. Finally arriving at the church, I walked up the stairs briskly and lowered my hood with care before doing the sign of cross.

Father Maxi was probably the only person in the town of South Park who had seen my teenaged face un-hooded. For some reason I had always been drawn to show my true colours while I was alone in the cold building every Saturday night.

As I made my way to the confessional I felt myself slip into _auto-pilot_.

Sitting down I started as I always would, "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned, it has been one week since I last confessed. These are my sins…"

Then followed my sinful thoughts and sinful actions, I was a bit caught off guard as I noticed how shortly it took me to enumerate them.

At the pause in my voice Father Maxi spoke up, "Is that all my son?"

I hesitated staring directly at the wall separating us. Everyone needed someone to confide to at some point…

"I feel so angry," I said lamely in a tone that didn't tell of any anger, "All the time," I added after a heavy pause.

Actually, that was quite underplayed. For a while now I had felt fury and hatred bubble in me towards what seemed almost everyone. All the books that had said angels were made out of good and light seemed to mock me as I felt all the angry emotions well up inside of me.

I hated my family because they were poor excuses for living beings.

I hated my classmates because they only thought of themselves.

I hated Father Maxi because he saw me for who I really was.

I hated Cartman because he was so disconnected from reality.

I hated Butters for taking that falsely innocent air.

I hated Stan because he was the reason I couldn't be next to Kyle all the time.

I… Didn't hate Kyle. Because when I was near him I could forget about all that hatred and injustice.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook with the sudden realization as to why I had been so hateful in the last couple of weeks. I hadn't seen Kyle at all during the break; everything bad about me seemed to gain more in proportion the longer I was away from him.

Before making any more startling realizations Father Maxi cut me off and said his line dismissively; "Your sins are forgiven, you may go in peace."

I tried to thank him without the edge I felt. He was obviously yet unjustly scared of me.

I sat down on my usual pew and pulled out the kneeler as I pulled my rosary from around my neck. The habit was too strong and I went into prayer without even giving it any thought, feeling the beads shift in my hand as I shifted to another prayer.

My thoughts were elsewhere. The way that priest looked at me. Surely anyone else would look at me in the same manner if they'd see my face.

Although my limbs had seemed to elongate during my teen years at a slightly slower pace than my classmates, they still had. It had been my face that lagged behind. Not that it was still the same as when I was in grade school, but it had somehow retained all of its childish qualities. It seemed unaffected by the passage of time and still kept the everlasting attributes that had angered my father so much. It wasn't only that, it was my voice. It was as high-pitched as any child's voice and ringing with a quality of 'out of this world'. Perhaps he had perceived me as a fag three years ago, but at the age of seventeen the priest must have figured there was something else to it.

Arriving at the end of the rosary I rose up and left without a word, though I could feel Father Maxi's eyes on me. I didn't know what to make of it.

That is why I believe my unhappiness at seeing him at our school the next day was founded.

The relief that had flooded in me at the sight of my feisty redheaded friend wasn't of any comfort as my gaze landed on the priest in the hallway next to the principal's office.

I stiffened as Stan also saw the older man. And of course proposed that we go find out what he was up to, did I ever mention Stan had always been a big part of why we ended up in disastrous situations? Well, he was.

Father Maxi seemed happy that we approached him and greeted us humbly.

"Hello my children," he murmured in a soft tone.

"What's up?" Stan asked never one for delicate situations

The older man seemed taken aback by this, "Ah, nothing my boys. I have simply come to discuss some arrangements with your principal."

"Uh-huh, bullshit," Cartman scoffed disbelievingly.

I glanced at Kyle a little shocked that he wasn't angered by the obvious lack of respect our friends had.

Father Maxi was, however, extremely put off, "It's not surprising I don't see you at church boys."

I kept glancing non-discreetly at Kyle who finally noticed, "I'm not taking any part in this, I'm Jewish," he said dismissively shaking his hands.

I locked gazes with Father Maxi and promptly wished I never had. Maybe it wouldn't have elicited him to say the following.

"You boys should take a leaf out of your friend's book. He comes to pray and confess at least once a week," he said with an approving look.

That hypocritical bastard! He's terrified of me, he-

I took a step closer to Kyle feeling more bitterness swell up inside of me.

While I was fuming there was a collective feeling of puzzlement in the group as they tried to make sense of who the priest was talking about.

"Wha-? But Kyle's a Jew that makes no sense!"

Stan nodded in agreement with Cartman as Kyle shot out a feeble "Hey!"

"I was referring to Kenneth," he said in a tone that translated to "You god damn idiots."

Before anyone had time to react, the office door flew open and the man greeted the principal as he entered it.

Things went really still.

"Dude. Weak." Cartman said still staring at the departing figure.

Then Stan broke into contagious laughter that infected Cartman quite quickly.

Realizing I couldn't step any closer to Kyle without seeming suspicious, I bit down the cool fury that was coursing through my veins.

"Since when are you religious?" he asked dangerously low as he kept his stare on the laughing duo.

Used to communicating with gestures instead of words I pulled out my rosary for him to see. He was the first person I showed it to. He was the only person I would have willingly shared any of myself with, but he, like everyone else, never really inquired deeper than what he saw me for.

He peeked at the presented object and his frown seemed to deepen.

"You never tell us anything anymore," he said in the most neutral tone I had ever heard.

Was he asking just to be polite? It sounded like small talk. Didn't he see that this was important to me right now? I needed some faith to find myself.

'_It doesn't matter_' my mind rang out as I softened my look on Kyle. Even if he didn't take this to heart, I took everything he did and said to heart.

"I never have," I answered truthfully.

**Yay C:**

**I do not own South Park.**

**By the way Mal'akh is the Hebrew word for angel.**

**Feedback would **_**greatly **_**be appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Keeping things hidden from others is healthy.

There was always that boost of strength that came with the knowledge that I knew something others didn't.

There had been no reason to be so irked at what Kenny had said this morning. There had been no reason to ponder on it all day. There was no reason to feel so… Bad.

Keeping yourself hidden from others isn't healthy.

Yeah! That must be it. I was feeling frustrated because his secrets concerned himself and that's not something you keep to yourself.

Looking down upon my calculus homework I frowned as I noticed I had been writing my thoughts down instead of the proper calculations. Erasing the words half-heartedly I attempted to stop my train of thought.

'_I'm a hypocrite.'_

I hadn't told anyone I was extremely jealous of my little brother's beaming success in just about everything because I was scared my parents liked him best.

I hadn't told anyone I often snuck out of my room at night to walk around because I liked the night sky.

I hadn't told anyone I was terrified of leaving for college because I liked South Park so much.

I hadn't told anyone I stopped believing in God years ago.

And that's what made it a big deal. Because I knew faith had humongous repercussions on someone's life. The way you treat others, treat yourself, treat life; they all changed when your beliefs changed. And he had _never_ said anything!

'_I never told anyone _I_ stopped believing.'_

But I wanted to! If someone were to find out I would tell them everything. I wouldn't just shrug it off like Kenny had, as if it meant nothing to me. If Kenny had found out I would have told him it's thanks to him that I've taken my life into my own hands.

That had been years ago…

Thanks to my frazzled complexion, the number of times I had prayed for God to save me while I rested on what I was told to be my death bed was countless. I always pulled through and I always thanked that higher being and went back to square one when another problem would be discovered and went back to praying again.

I had never questioned any of my religious behaviours because of the seemingly imposing place it took in my family life. That was until that faithful morning in sixth grade.

Once again, I had been admitted to the hospital. And likewise to my previous experiences my parents had been convinced it would be the last time they would see their little 'bubbe'.

That morning when I awoke the hospital room had been full. I almost wasn't surprised as the medics described how my three friends had somehow found a cure by going on some unconventional adventure overseas. I had smiled as one by one my friends and family had expressed their words of relief. And when it had been Kenny's turn to say something I had turned my head towards him.

"Great to have you back," he had told me with a small grin.

And then right there, my faith had fallen apart. He had been standing on the opposite side of the room from everyone else lounging against the window. The light streaming in seemed to engulf him and as I stared at him the light appeared to me as wings sprouting out of his back.

I understood everything that I needed to understand from this apparition. God never saved me; my friends had always saved me and if not I managed to save myself. They were the true divine beings in my life. If there was a God he had no role what so ever in my life.

Although, that experience had been very off-settling; I could never shake the feeling that I got back then as I looked at my friend. From time to time I still had the impression that he radiated light.

He somehow had everything to do with my faith and I… Had nothing to do with his.

I pounded at my work desk in frustration. What else had he been keeping to himself? Who was he really anyway? When was the last time I even thought of something like this. I had always treated him as if he would be by my side no matter what. I didn't treat him as I treated Stan and Cartman. I felt as if I had to work to keep them by my side, I had always just taken Kenny for granted. What happened if one day I woke up and he was just… Gone?

I chewed my nails anxiously as I felt the need to talk to someone, _anyone. _I got up and exited my room with hushed steps. Glancing momentarily downstairs to where my parents sat on the couch I retreated back to my room.

I couldn't speak to them. They didn't really like Kenny. The last time we had spoken of him my mother had said something along the lines of: "Only thugs cover their faces."

For some reason it had really upset me. I was a little disgusted with myself as I had silently agreed with the fat-ass; my mom was a _bitch_.

Resting my forehead on my door I remembered the fourth habitant of the house and took two steps to my left so I could enter my brother's room.

I sneaked my way to his computer so I could glance at his computer where he was typing at a hallucinating speed.

"Are you hacking again?"

I spoke directly into his ear knowing he would freak out.

Barely retaining his scream of sheer horror he ripped his headphones off and turned to glare at me.

"No," he affirmed sternly.

Keeping my eyes glued to his screen he sighed deeply as he switched windows.

"Okay yes, what is it that you want?"

I wasn't too sure why I had decided to come to him for advice, but he had always been way too mature for his age so it seemed like a wise choice. Taking a seat on his bed I thought of how he was much more knowledgeable than the other kids of his class, although they had two years on him. Ike could have been twelve going on forty for all I could tell.

"How do I get to know someone better?" I don't remember ever feeling more awkward than in this instant.

Without slowing the speed of his typing he spoke in a disinterest tone, "Uh. You give them a clear shot of your ass?"

Growling slightly at his back I tried one more time, "No jokes. This is about someone… Important."

I was unsure of my choice of words but was in need of some answers.

"Oh? Girl troubles?" he asked while his intensifying playful tone.

"This isn't about a girl," I seethed out impassively.

He snickered at my words as he kept typing away, "I always knew it would wind up being boy troubles."

Having enough with his off-handed behaviour I got up and spun his computer chair around. Letting both my hands fall flat against his shoulders I looked at him straight in the eyes.

"It's really serious."

"Alright, alright! What is this about?"

Falling back onto the bed once again I had to pause to find the words.

"… I'm not really sure who he is anymore," I finished lamely.

Raising his eyebrows, he looked a little unconvinced, "Listen Ky, I really don't think Stan is _that _hard to read."

Glaring at him and his hastily pulled conclusions I answered back the only answer I could: "It's not Stan."

That seemed to catch his interest as his eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"You want to get to know the _fat-ass_?" he asked disbelievingly.

Chuckling a little I threw him one of his pillows.

"No! I was talking about Kenny!"

At this his expression sobered and he spun back around to go back to whatever it was he was doing. _Shit._

"Come on Ike don't you want to help?" I was genuinely confused at his reaction.

He turned around sombrely and spoke in a very neutral tone, "Okay I'm just going to say this once. Whenever I'm around that guy I get this really weird feeling. I don't know if it's a good or bad one, but I don't want to know. I don't want anything to do with him."

"Don't be like that," I reprimanded severely, "It's like… I don't know who he is but I just know he'll always be there," I replied with haste.

Ike paused his typing dramatically and turned his head slightly so he could see me.

"Are you talking about God or are you still talking about Kenny?"

Scowling at his words I left and made my way to my room. Now that I thought about it, that definitely wasn't the first time someone had that fearful reaction towards Kenny.

Our Tuesday had been most uneventful. However I was thankful for the monotony as I forgot about my frustration of the last night.

Our class had been kept after school as we had a meeting concerning the applications we had sent out during the holidays. We had all been handed a sheet with our current grades and list of the institutes where we had applied to, as a reminder of the grades we were expected to maintain until the end of the year and the expenses we would have to be prepared to pay, were you not planning on earning any scholarships... And then we had an earful of, "We were highly disappointed with most of you for your grades. But, for a few others we were disappointed with where you chose to apply."

Hi eyes had landed on the orange hooded boy next to me as he said the last part. Most people were too busy inspecting their sheet to notice, but I had. I frowned in confusion; had Kenny not applied anywhere? It would make sense considering his lack of funding.

I clenched my jaw at the thoughts of leaving for college flooded my head, I didn't want to have to leave Kenny all alone in South Park waiting for us to come back.

Since we had missed the bus because of the meeting we walked back home. I had been arguing with Stan and Cartman over the merits of our grades, but the heart wasn't really in it. Noticing the fourth party of our member had been lagging behind I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was alright. Hopefully he wasn't having a break down while he realised our departure would be imminent.

I saw the light around him and blinked it away. It was already dark; I wasn't going to be dragged in hallucinating light where there couldn't be any. He was still reading over his sheet. His face was shadowed and so I couldn't tell what was going through his mind.

Discretely slowing the pace of my steps I noticed as the tension seemed to leave his body the closer I got to him. He had always acted that way. I always thought he must be secretly be an extrovert although he was so quiet, because he always seemed to relax when I got near him.

I cocked my head as I tried to read the sheet from where I was standing next to him. I was obviously failing because the numbers I saw were impossible.

"Hey let me see!" I urged him as I reached for his paper.

He jumped out of his skin at this and impulsively tugged the paper out of my grasp. He settled down after the shock but still didn't relent.

Frowning, I tried the polite approach, "May I see your sheet Kenny?"

I offered him a thankful grin as he passed it to me with a heavy sigh.

It felt as if the air had been knocked out of me as I let my jaw hang open. I had vaguely noticed that all his applications were the same as mine, but strangely that didn't surprise me. What did on the other hand were the listed grades.

"… Holy shit," I somehow managed to say in an even tone.

I looked up to see the banter still going on in front of us, making sure raising my voice wouldn't arouse suspicion. They were caught up in their little world so I felt safe to scold Kenny without them noticing.

"Fucking hell, dude. What were you thinking?" I clenched my fists as I was blinded with anger, "Why would you apply to these crappy colleges? You should have just saved yourself the trouble and apply to all the Ivy League universities with grades like these!"

He wasn't at all shaken with my outburst as he gently took back the piece of paper.

"Unless I get a full-ride scholarship I can't even go to one of those crappy colleges."

We would part ways soon I noticed as I looked at the changing scenery. Unable to reply with anything useful I stared ahead and muttered in amazement.

When…? Since when were his grades outrageously high? Higher than mine ever were that's for sure.

It was odd; usually I would throw a fit when Ike would bring home a report card that contained slightly higher marks than what I would have gotten at his age. I'd also see red when that stupid Wendy would beat my average. But _this_, I only felt relief. I was relieved that his marks weren't what I thought they were.

Finally we had to part roads to go home and we all shared parting words and waves of goodbye.

Kenny surprised me as he asked to walk home with me, probably sensing that I wanted to talk to him.

I did, but it still took me a few minutes before speaking up. Looking at him I smiled at his relaxed posture and the way he had stuffed his hands into his pockets. I knew that if we had parted ways he wouldn't be projecting that air of easy-goingness at the moment.

"You're going to the same university as the one I'm going to, right?" it sounded pretentious even from my own ears.

He didn't really react though, simply answering with a 'yup'.

I let out the breath I knew I had been holding. _Honestly,_ I would probably have had a meltdown and ended up not leaving South Park if I had known he wouldn't be by me anymore.

"Good."

We reached my house and I stopped. Remaining still for a few seconds he waited for the goodbye that would surely come.

"I don't believe in god anymore," I admitted looking up at the night sky that I loved so much.

"Since grade six," he finished for me.

I wasn't puzzled by his words and simply answered a 'yeah' before leaving his side and waving my hand as I walked towards the door.

As I ate supper with my family I finally reflected on what he had said. Not only did he know I didn't believe, but he also knew the year it had stopped.

I poked at the peas with my fork, losing slightly my appetite.

I understood now why I kept things about myself hidden from others. Because I knew that he knew them. I didn't know how, but that's just the way it was. I didn't need anyone else to know, because somehow he shared the burden with me.

'_Are you talking about God or are you still talking about Kenny?'_

I glared at my brother, who was chewing his potatoes, he was the one who had said such a stupid thing.

**Do not own South Park.**

**Thank you to the ones who reviewed the first chapter C:**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I groaned as I realised I had to get up.

I went through my usual morning routine knowing full well that I was being ridiculous. Finishing what I had to do I picked up my house keys, the house was never locked but I just really liked to jingle them to fill the silence.

I glanced up at the clock before opening the front door; it read 11:08 pm.

Huffing slightly, I wondered how well-rested I would be the following day. I walked with purpose although I wasn't sure what it was yet. Throwing my keys up and down I tried to come up with reasons as to why I would wake up at such a time to go to the train station. Deciding I would find out soon enough I kept catching my keys in rhythm as the icy air penetrated my bones.

Arriving at the station, I stepped inside the well-heated building and shook the snowflakes off of my coat. Making my way to the waiting area, I collapsed on a chair and closed my eyes. Maybe I would take a short nap before whatever was supposed to happen did happen.

The guy at the ticket counter didn't seem to care that I made no move to purchase a ticket, he just kept flipping the magazine he was reading. I looked up sleepily at the departing trains and smiled at the thought that there were trains that passed here at midnight. Surely not many people would purchase a ticket for one of those trains.

Feeling my consciousness slipping I rested my head against the wall behind me and promptly fell asleep.

I was pulled out of my slumber by voices and the echo of someone shuffling their feet. I rubbed at my eyes, momentarily confused as to what I was doing here.

Trying to focus on the image of the ticket booth and the words that the two people were saying I readjusted my hood as to keep my face completely hidden.

It was weird identifying the person; it wasn't any of the people I had expected. I knew I should have recognised the short boy but no name sprouted at the sight of his back. Making his way towards the waiting area, he inspected his ticket with a wary expression.

There was no mistaking that concentrated expression. It belonged to the only person I could never hate and also none other than… His brother.

Ike Broflovski sat down two seats away from me, failing to notice my presence. That's what had woken me up. I can't let Kyle's brother board that train. Tensing at the aspect of convincing someone to do something they didn't want to do; I angled my body towards him.

"Hey kiddo. Watcha doing?" I asked with a voice still laced with sleep.

I might as well have pointed a gun to his head and told him to give me all his money for the horrified look he gave me. _'This wasn't going to be easy.'_

He looked back at his ticket that was resting on his lap as he answered, "I'm running away. You?"

Of course he was. What else would he be doing? Refraining myself from rolling my eyes I continued with the gentlest voice I could muster.

"Same."

I could sense his surprise as he once again looked my way. What had he really been expecting? He seemed to hesitate as if wanting to ask something.

"What is it?" I asked with what I hoped wasn't a stressful tone.

"Why?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"It's not like anyone would miss me."

Although I was tricking him, I couldn't help but find truth in my words.

"What about your family?" he asked me in an interested manner.

My hatred and anger lessened as I recognised the same glint in his eye that Kyle would get when something sparked his interest.

Smiling bitterly I supplied him with an answer, "It's not like they're my _real_ family."

There was no doubt he was surprised this time, he must have been dying to ask me about it but he didn't. Shockingly, he was a polite kid.

"Blood doesn't matter. They still care about you," he said with sad eyes.

I smirked internally as he took the bait, "Is that enough?" I sighed in a dramatic voice, "All the kids my age only think about their own problems. None of them care about me."

His eyes filled with fire, in the same fashion Kyle's would have, "That's a little unfair! What about you? Right now you're only thinking about yourself and not of the people you'll hurt by leaving."

I shrugged as my shoulders slumped, "There's nothing for me in this town. I have to get away."

He had started the discussion scooted as far as he could away from me, but was starting to inch closer and closer as he tried to win the argument.

"If you can't find it here, what makes you think you'll find it elsewhere?" he spoke quietly as if his words were a revelation.

This time I smirked for real at the shining success of my plan.

"You're right kiddo. I should be getting home now."

I made a move to leave be he shouted out before I could.

"Wait! Aren't you going to ask me?"

I chuckled at this and gave him a very serious look, "Let me guess. Your departure won't make a difference in anyone's life. You're adopted so screw your family. The other kids aren't on your intellectual level so they don't get you, but you don't try to get them either. You're not intellectually stimulated in any plausible way so you're leaving South Park to find intellectual stimulation."

He gaped at me for a moment and then started laughing shakily. I watched in horror as his laughter morphed into tears and as he stuffed his face into his hands.

"C'mon kiddo I'll go get your money back."

It wasn't hard to get what I wanted out of the old salesman with a sniffling kid by my side.

Ike tugged at my sleeve as I gave his money back.

"What about yours?" he inquired in an exhausted voice.

"Didn't have one," I said smiling as he realised how easily he had been duped.

I walked him back to his house in silence. I hadn't offered and he hadn't asked. It just kind of happened.

I tried my best to not hate him. Hate how easily he had been manipulated, hate how he had behaved like a drama queen and hate how he copied the way Kyle behaved.

The only thought that calmed me was the prospect of getting closer to where Kyle was with every step.

We stopped in front of his house, same place I had with Kyle mere hours ago. He took a deep breath as he mentally prepared what he was about to say, a habit of Kyle's that had probably picked up.

"You're a good guy," he said tentatively as if it were the answer to a very controversial question.

"Yeah, but don't tell anyone," I said smiling stupidly.

I felt so much better facing the house Kyle was in. I felt all the violence and hatred drain out of my heart.

He caught me off guard for the first time tonight as he dove for me and hugged me. He was so short his face was stuffed into my stomach. I felt his sobs and frowned at his emotional fatigue.

"Hey c'mon you're home now, everything's okay.

He mouthed thanks as he walked up to his front door.

It only took his mother a split second to appear at the door after his knock. I watched to scene unfold as I stared at the illuminated doorway.

She seemed lost for words until she saw me. I flinched at the bold screaming that followed.

"You hooligan! Trying to elope with my son were you? I'll show you!"

I stared with awe as the small Ike battled with his mother as he tried to tell her I had actually _saved_ him.

The screaming must have called forth the two other inhabitants of the house who looked as if they had stayed up in desperate hope that the missing member of their family would come back home. I felt pure joy at the relieved face Kyle sported as he saw his baby brother. The joy was short lived as he caught on to what his mother was babbling about. Looking up he spotted me, by the time he did I had already started walking away.

I had prepared myself to assure Kyle that I didn't need his thanks on the following day. But the opportunity never came up, as a matter of fact he had ignored me _all_ day.

I had let myself the benefit of the doubt. He was possibly still shaken with the surprise of his younger brother's outburst. But that wasn't correct. He had spent all day laughing away with Stan and even with Cartman. He was mad at me.

My thoughts were confirmed on Thursday; still he was avoiding me like the plague. All day long. For two days now! Was this his way of thanking me for bringing his brother home? If it was, I wasn't sure I liked it.

So that evening when Stan called my home to ask if we could meet at Stark's Pond, I knew it was a badly thought-up plot to get us talking to each other again.

I hadn't been surprised to see Kyle with him when I had arrived at the frozen pond. He had been. And he had also been furious.

Fuming, he had threatened to go back home if I didn't leave first.

I would be lying if I said that hadn't been somewhat hurtful.

"What the fuck Kyle? Would you just tell us what the problem is? Because it doesn't seem like Kenny knows more than I do," Stan has spat out in a last attempt to get us back together.

"Oh he knows what he did," Kyle glowered at me. It was definitely the first time he had done that.

"Uh. No?" I tried feebly.

After some mindless arguing it was decided that we would all sit in a circle and solve this now. You can blame the cheesy idea on Stan.

At first it turned out to be pretty… Unproductive. We all sat in awkward silence as the sky darkened and the air got cooler.

I cleared my throat, hoping that Kyle would speak to me normally again by this time tomorrow.

"So…?" I tried weakly.

"So you and my brother," he said his glare unwavering.

"Yea-ah…?" I dragged out the word as if to say I didn't know where he was going with this.

Great, that seemed to further piss him off.

"So you two are best friends now huh?"

I glanced at Stan who was wearing a truly puzzled expression.

"No?" I asked back. I seemed to be answering with solely questions; I was starting to annoy even myself.

"God damn it don't act so fucking innocently!" He yelled at me as he made a move to get back up and launch himself at me.

Thankfully Stan reacted quickly and held him back as he spat menaces at me. I had never and I mean _never_ expected this outcome. My instincts had screamed to hold Ike back, but had I been wrong…?

"You're aware that I had no part in him wanting to run away, right? I convinced him to go _home_."

Surely that was the problem. He was probably just mixed up with the role I had played in the story. That was all.

Stan had managed to cool him down as I spoke and he was back to sulking and glaring.

"If Ike's so great maybe you should just hang out with him instead!"

Oka-ay… Maybe he thought I had convinced his brother to stay with a garland of praises? Maybe that's what Ike had been saying?

"Why? What did Ike say?"

Apparently still not the right thing to say. The redhead was literally fuming with anger. I should have been a little angry with the way he was attacking me, but I always felt so mellowed out when he was near. My inappropriate ways of arguing were probably making things worse for him.

"Oh you'd like to know wouldn't you! Well you'll be happy to know that all we hear from him is how wonderful you are. _All the time," _he paused as if to debate if he should add on what he wanted to, "Just so you know on Tuesday he told me he wanted nothing to do with you."

He said it as if he were delivering a fatal blow. But honestly I had already known that. I frowned at my inability to follow his thought process.

At my lack of response Stan tried to intervene, once again.

"Woah dude. What does this have to do with _anything_?" voicing the question I had previously asked myself.

"Kenny should just come right out and say he likes Ike better than he likes me!" he declared, shooting me a dark look although he was referring to me in third person.

_Oh._

Now it makes sense. He had been throwing a jealousy fit. I shouldn't have been, but I was honoured it had been over me.

I knew a thing or two about sibling competition. Especially adopted versus biologic.

To this day I had never bonded with my older brother. He despised me and I knew it. My mother seemed to always give me extra care as a child because she knew I was a little _different _and wanted to protect me from my father. I don't think that ever sat well with Kevin. He had taken my father's point of view and saw me as a bastard child. That's why I didn't really know who he was and he didn't know who I was; because we had avoided competitive behaviour and ruled each other out of one another's life.

Kyle and Ike were different. They loved each other and knew each other. It must have still been difficult for Kyle who did outstanding in his life to be outshined by a younger brother who was intellectually gifted.

He was being _so_ ridiculous. As if I would have cared if Ike had been someone else's brother. Ike was just another angst-filled kid like every other teenager in his class.

"I know you think you're upset right now," I began with great care.

He didn't let me finish, "Damn straight I'm upset!"

Stan kept a flabbergasted expression as he didn't catch onto what was happening.

"But it's nothing compared to how you would feel if no one had stopped Ike," I completed with finality.

I wasn't exactly good with this emotional bullshit, so I closed my eyes to ease my nerves.

"You're my best friend," I sighed heavily, "If anything I should be jealous because I'm not _your_ best friend."

I opened my eyes to see Stan looking at me with a tender expression and a flushing Kyle.

"I'm so stupid…" he whispered as he fidgeted.

"Nah, you're brilliant," I said running out of words. I felt as if I had reached my word limit for the day.

The rest of the night we spent looking at the stars, playing in the snow and talking of the good old days. All three of us were acting like kids. Because our childhood was coming to an end but we were still hanging on to our childhood friends.

For that instant I could pretend I was as human as could be.

**Don't own South Park.**

**I hope you guys like it C=**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The day after our childish fight and reconciliation we were pulled back to the reality of being on the verge of graduation.

Our guidance counselor had pulled us into yet another meeting. Luckily it had replaced our last period of the day. As any other Friday afternoon our minds had already drifted elsewhere.

All but one it seemed, I glanced at Kenny who was sitting at the other end of the classroom, avidly noting down all the information handed to us. This made sense considering that these meetings were turning into: Everything you need to know about last minute scholarships.

I felt the blackening of my mood as I considered the possibility that he could be unable to come up with the sum that he needed.

The chattering was at its maximum volume while he attempted to catch every single one of the counselor's words. He seemed tensed by the lack of concentration in the air and kept tugging at his hoodie's string. I smiled sadly as I imagined the worries that he carried.

The counselor called us to order and announced the end of the list of new available scholarships. I was surprised at this, considering that there was still twenty minutes left to the period.

"Now, kids I need your full attention for this one last thing."

The buzzing energy that was spreading through the class somehow dimmed at the comment.

"We wanted to know if any of you could sing…?" the teacher asked with an expression that told us he in fact did not want to be asking the question.

There was a consensual feeling of misunderstanding as the words sank, broken by none other than Cartman.

To the counselor's astonishment (but not to ours) he broke into song. As soon as he yelled out the first note I felt Stan elbowing me from his seat right next to me.

"It's…"

"I know!" I mouthed back quickly.

We both rested our heads on our desks, clearly aware that this would take a while.

Awareness that our dear teacher did not yet possess.

It was apparent that he had had enough of the obnoxious singing after a couple of verses and so he tried in vain to get Cartman to cease.

Trying to speak over Cartman's booming voice Stan told the teacher what was happening.

"Dude, he can't do anything else until that song is over."

Both of us laughed at this and so did Kenny who was seated meters away from us, all recalling when we had first found out Cartman couldn't do anything else until the song "Come Sail Away" was over.

After long excruciating minutes of Cartman's blaring voice, the air filled with the sound of his panting and he smiled smugly.

I think we were all too tired to laugh at him, but it had definitely lightened the atmosphere in the class.

"Well…" our teacher started uncertainly, "You certainly have the heart Eric. But you're missing… How do I put this? Ah yes, you're missing the talent."

He was too busy catching his breath to answer snidely, but it didn't keep him from sending a death glare towards the older man's general direction.

The counselor feebly asked if anyone else could sing.

At this, Butters started off with a faint "Lou, lou, lou…" but let out a loud "Oh Hamburgers!" as he forgot the continuation of the song he always seemed to hum under his breath.

I was seriously starting to get pissed off as I watched the minutes slowly ticking away, feeling that we were completely wasting our time.

"Professor is this in any way related to our future education?" I asked in what I hoped wasn't too much of a bored tone.

He seemed hesitant as if he too thought this was completely ridiculous.

"We have received the news that there is a collegiate choir looking for a soloist," he took a deep breath as he spoke the last part, "That student's expenses would be fully paid."

"Fully paid!" exclaimed Kenny, almost knocking over his notebook.

"Which University?" I asked quickly.

I was floored as he named one of those we had applied to, my eyes met Kenny's and he raised his eyebrows.

"I can't sing!" I mouthed back.

He frowned in thought and I hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself by attempting to sing.

Wendy seemed eager at the mention of the awarded scholarship and decided to speak up, "In that case, I-"

But she was immediately cut off as Kenny stood up fiercely and lifted his hand.

"I can sing! I can sing!" he all but shouted.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, a habit I had picked up from Stan and prayed that the moment would pass quickly.

Luckily the counselor seemed to agree with me.

"I appreciate the enthusiasm Kenny and would love for you to get as many scholarships as possible…" he started with an all too knowing gaze, "But I'm sure they would make more use of a student who we can actually _understand_ when they decide to speak."

In a frantic move he lowered the metallic zipper so that his heart-shaped lips could be seen and tried his best to not let the opportunity pass, "I swear I can sing!"

At this, my hand fell away from my face. I heard a few pencils drop as well. One thing was sure; he had the class' attention.

His voice had ringed out with more clarity and purity than the one of a child. It had resonated throughout the room as if it were the chime of a bell. No one would have thought his voice would have been so… Ethereal.

Blindly, my eyes found his silhouette and I saw light stream out of his form once again. He brought his elbows in and fisted up his hands as he took a deep breath and then…

The whole class must have been momentarily transported to heaven, because _never_ had I heard anything remotely close to his singing.

The words to Ave Maria seemed to flow out his mouth in what sounded like a flawless Latin. Words could not describe how gorgeous it was. I wasn't surprised to see a few girls sobbing; I for one did not know how to react.

Neither did the teacher, who gaped for more than a minute after Kenny had sat back down, zipping up his hoodie and blushing furiously. Finally he dismissed the rest of the class and kept Kenny behind.

I got out without breaking out of my reverie, the richness of his voice never leaving my ears or my heart.

_He had the voice of an angel._

Stan and Cartman halted me, explaining that we would wait for Kenny, but I was too dazed to even nod. That had been simply amazing.

None of us spoke. None of us blinked. I was sure they both felt as emotionally drowned as I did. As if the melody had eradicated every shadow in my life and I was left facing a blinding and holy beacon of endless soothing feelings.

It took a while to snap out of it even after Kenny exited the room.

He said a quick "They'll help me send an audition tape!" in his familiar muffled voice and then we could breathe again.

"Audition? You'll get it for sure!" Stan beamed nudging Kenny in the arm.

We started making our way to the bus stop and continued discussing what had just happened.

"Oh man Kinny I understand why you keep your hood up. You have the voice of a fag!" Cartman snickered, but was still clearly shaken with what he had heard.

"He's just jealous because his singing was god awful!" Stan retorted pulling his tongue at the fatter boy.

Still feeling weird and not sure if I was awake or not, I asked what was on my mind without even thinking it through.

"Kenny why are you sad?"

Everyone stopped their laughing at this and turned their attention to Kenny, who shrunk under the attention.

I looked at him, beckoning him to just answer the truth.

"This choir place will make me wear a uniform and…" he continued in a whisper "Show my face."

"I'm sure your face can't be _that_ horrifying Kinny! People will be so perplexed by your girl's voice they'll forget about your face," Cartman assured him, totally missing the point.

But then again I was unsure what the point truly was. I couldn't even remember what Kenny looked like under his hood, it had been too long. What was it that really bothered him? Why did that matter?

"By the way, how did you know the words to that song?" Stan inquired with a confused expression.

He finally seemed relieved to be able to answer one question without confusing us even further.

"That's easy! The lyrics are the same as the words the angel Gabriel used to greet the Virgin Mary," he stated this as if everyone would obviously know what those words were. And in Latin to boot!

"Again with this religious bullshit? It's not even funny anymore," Cartman whined as he dug in his bag for a snack while we waited for the bus to arrive.

My filter had still not reconstructed itself and I kept my eyes glued on the blond, awe pouring out of my every pore.

"Ever thought that maybe _you_ were an angel?"

The question had left my lips without me even noticing them forming in my throat. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have thought that. What am I saying? What am I thinking?

My mind was going into a panic mode and I didn't even know why; it wasn't really a big deal, right?

Kenny must have thought it was because he stepped away from me in a violent matter and his eyes darkened to a deep aquamarine.

But you could always count on Cartman to fail at sensing the gravity of a situation.

"Was that some kind of pick-up line Jew?" he said in a disgusted tone.

At this, we went back to idle chatter.

We rode the bus home, and everything was normal.

Except it wasn't and I was so confused.

That night when I arrived home, I ignored everyone and threw myself face down onto my mattress. Lying extremely still I tried to even out my breathing.

But the air was no longer arriving to my lungs. Everything seemed distorted, I felt myself shake as I waited for an epiphany to hit me.

Clutching at my tangled hair, questions that I had always avoided came up to the surface.

How did Kenny know what colleges I applied to?  
Why was he willing to go to some mediocre college with me when he could make it into a prestigious one?  
How had he known Ike was leaving?  
How did he even stop him?

How had he known I didn't believe in God?

Why was he so understanding about it when he obviously held a high place for God in his own heart?

Why _did_ he turn to God?

How did he know everything about me?

Why didn't it bother me that he did?

I felt a spasm run through me as the questions that really counted took a hold over me.

Why was he radiating light?

Why did he have the voice of an angel?

Because…

On the verge of knowing the truth, I passed out.

It was a deep and dreamless sort of slumber. It must have been the exhaustion of thinking about things I had been running away from for a long time now. When I woke up, it was dark and Ike was screaming at me to get downstairs and eat.

I had lost track of time and track of where I was.

But somehow I could finally answer all the questions that had been plaguing my mind.

_Because, he _is_ an angel you dumbass._

The memory of him standing behind us with light emanating from his form suddenly gained focus, the light streamed and spread until it had taken the shape of wings and then they burst into being. Feathers as white and as pure as his voice had taken the place of his aura.

Kenny McCormick was an angel and I should have realised it years ago.

**I don't own South Park, Sail Away and Ave Maria**

**By the way, I think Cartman is an amazing singer. **

**I learned that Styx song on the piano just because it reminded me of him.**

**C:**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I'd always pass through the forest to get from the church back to my house. I especially liked how alone I felt when I passed there. Just me, pines and snow; no one to hate and no one trying to figure me out.

_Kyle…_

I wouldn't usually go to church on a Friday, but I had needed to today. Not to pray or confess, but just to feel safe. This had been the first time I had backed away from Kyle and purposely put distance between the both of us. _'I would rather hate the entire world than have him hating me.'_

I sighed heavily, watching my warm breath rise in the cold air. He was obviously very close to understanding what kind of weird humanoid I actually was. He would react like anyone else and stay clear from me and I'd eventually wind up by myself… And then I'll drown in anger.

'_It's not too late…'_ I thought with a small shred of hope. Perhaps I could come up with a plan to prove my humanity, I could-

If that idea was leading anywhere, it never went any farther. My thoughts were cut off as a weird feeling started spreading from my core. Although snow was still falling from the sky and everything was pointing to the temperature being freezing, I suddenly felt very warm.

Glancing around, I made sure I truly was alone and hesitantly pulled my hood down. That didn't seem to cool me. The warmth actually seemed to gain momentum and quite suddenly I felt sweat running down my back.

In a heated haze I unzipped my coat. Even though my bare skin was now in contact with the chilly air of South Park, sweat was literally rolling down my face and I was blinded by the sudden heat.

Tugging the coat off I desperately tried to get as much icy air into my lungs as possible, but only managed to choke. Eying the snow off the track warily I took a few steps away from the designated road and lied face down onto the thick layer of snow.

The rosary around my neck was like a hot iron and the snow under me like a lake of lava. The only coherent thought in my mind was the prayer for anything to replace the scorching feeling.

Ironically enough the prayer was soon granted, but replaced by far far worse. I knew I shouldn't have been hollering in the middle of the forest, especially with my voice, but I couldn't keep my screams of agony from filling the air. The unbearable heat had been replaced by extreme pain.

I tried to get up from the suddenly cold ground but only succeeded to rise to a kneeling position. The tears flooded down my cheeks as I went through excruciating pain, as if my bones were being compressed and shaped into a different form. I looked up to the sky as my shrieks kept escaping my rapidly drying throat.

There was no place for any thoughts in my mind; the pain took over my entire body and brain. Finally pin-pointing the source of the aching I reached blindly at my back. Wrapping my arms around me I tried to feel what had happened, bringing my hands back in front of me I shook as I saw them covered in blood. Feeling nauseous at the idea of dying for the first time in months I stopped my helpless sobbing and attempted to die with some sort of dignity. Although the pain was unlike any I had ever gone through I still tried to distract myself.

I tried reciting religious psalms as I gripped my bleeding back. The shaking and weakness of my voice did not ease my nerves in any way.

Feeling myself weaken, my thoughts drifted to the only person they ever went to in a moment of extreme weakness. Not God, but Kyle.

Smiling despite the pain I pictured the way he squinted his eyes at an algebra problem and how the lobes of his ears peaked out from his hat and would turn adorably pink and the way he said my name, as if it were a puzzle.

I kept my hands on my back as I let my mind fill with memories of the charismatic redhead. I had been so happy to be alone earlier, but now I desperately wanted someone to hold me and tell me it would all be over soon. More specifically, I wanted Kyle to be the one to hold me.

It was at that moment that something light touched my gripping hands. I felt a resistance as I pulled it up to my eyes I tried to see what it was. At first I thought it was snow, and then it became clear that it was some sort of feather… Unlike any I had ever touched or seen, the extremities seemed to melt away at my touch and the colour seemed almost translucent as if it were not made out of only keratin but also out of sheer light.

Wings had sprouted out of my back. As I patted them it became clear that they were soaked in my own blood and that keeping them out was proving to be an excruciating and painful task. The tears of hurt that were still running down my cheeks became tears of bitterness as my dream was smashed into a million pieces.

Completing an honourable task, earning wings and flying away. There had been no task to complete; they had just come to being. And the worst part was… I sniffled slightly as the truth became clearer. I had wings, but was unable to fly. I had wings that only furthered my pathetic state in this world. It took every fibre of my being to somehow get them back into my body, I'm not sure how it worked but as I willed them away they did retreat back into me. My childish dreams of returning to where I truly belonged shattered.

Shakily, I picked up my discarded piece of clothing and stared at the massive puddle of blood I had stained the snow with. As soon as I had successfully retracted my wings, the bleeding had ceased, but the feeling of discomfort and pain did not subside.

Why had this happened now?

I had had extreme trouble walking home; I was extremely drowsy from the major loss of blood.

I was no longer thinking straight and every shape and colour surrounding me seemed to blur into some sort of organised chaos. My feet brought me back to the shabby looking house without even consulting my mind. Stupidly, I looked down to see that I had been bouncing my house keys up and down as I always would when something important was about to happen. Frowning at the omen, I brought one hand up to the doorknob as the pain in my body sharpened with the movement.

The peculiar stillness and silence of the household appeared to me as a second warning to the storm that would surely take place.

The feeling irked me and I decided to lock the door behind me as to protect me from whatever would happen. I grimaced as I wrestled with the key, urging it to fit into the keyhole. Things seemed off, there had been no foreshadowing to the morphing of my body, I winced as the thought reignited the backache, and now a bad feeling lurched in my stomach; perhaps it meant nothing would happen.

I sighed with relief as I successfully locked the worn-out door. The feeling was lost just as soon when a bottle of beer met the part of the door right next to my head.

I was shocked as I turned around and met my father's hateful gaze; his posture clearly pointing to him being the one who had thrown the bottle.

I brought my hands up to my face and terror pulsed through me as my hands met my cheeks and not the used material of my hood.

Rapidly realizing that I had been so shaken by the change I had gone through that such an important detail had escaped me.

There was only one way out.

I turned and lunged for the door, quickly remembering I had just locked it.

I heard the heavy footsteps of the fuming man behind me and gave up on any hope.

Today was not a good day. In exchange of a possible scholarship I had paid with my blood. Twice.

**I don't own South park-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

I had thought about everything over the course of the week-end. I was overjoyed to finally understand some part of Kenny. And not just a small irrelevant part of whom he was, but something grandiose and extraordinary.

I had reacted very badly when Ike had spoken of Kenny with a smirk adorning his lips, a clear indication that he had figured out something related to Kenny, I had practically lost it. I couldn't stand someone else going in and breaking through his mysterious aura, surely if he wanted to share himself with someone one day it should be me. I don't know what pushed me into that belief.

I'm not sure I'm ready to know; but I knew that I had stumbled upon something big.

I was so exhilarated; I had already called him on Saturday to ask him to come over to my house after school this afternoon, although there was an obvious lack of enthusiasm in his answer, it had still been an affirmative one.

I was going to just come right out and say that I knew about it, I would share with him all the questions I had been asking myself these past few days and then he would feel accepted and he won't want to hide things from me anymore.

That's what I had thought as I woke up and made my way out of my house.

That had been the general idea, lightly discussing serious matters after a carefree day at school.

The shallowness that had pierced through his voice should have warned me. I should have known something was definitely off.

I was so happy, I had been until he had walked up to us with his usual "Hey you guys!"

The others had definitely noticed, but they only went on with the usual responses, completely unresponsive to the way he had walked up to us. No, not walked, but limped. Hi usually fluid and nonchalant movements were reduced to awkward choppy motions. Although it was unavoidably noticeable, the only comments were lewd jokes, to which he replied with equally crude comments.

He wasn't fooling me, even though my not so keen sense of observation had been shoved in my face recently, this I could identify. The battered, broken look and the way he had pulled his hood as tightly as possible were signalling me that something bad had happened.

Though he behaved normally throughout the day, it was obvious as he shifted on his seat in class that his body was bruised and tattered. Distantly, I recalled a period of time where he would always wind up in very dangerous situations, but even with missing limbs he had never shut down like this.

The end of classes couldn't arrive soon enough. He kept the façade of banality for a long time, all the way from the bus stop, passing by my front door and my living room, all the way to my room.

As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I dove right in. Thinking I would never get around to it if I hesitated now.

"You're an angel," my voice was particularly high as I spoke the truth for the first time.

I shut my eyes, wishing to avoid any confrontation, which was very unusual for me.

This conversation had supposed to be light and carefree, what I hadn't used in the equation was a worn down Kenny.

I anticipated a reaction, any really. Glee, sorrow, fury, confusion, any but bitterness.

His laughter shot out through my room, forcing my eyes back open and forcing me to face the angelic being that was standing in the center of my room.

His laugh was not one of panic, like the nervous laugh people would get when they tried denying the truth. It was one of irony, like the rancorous laugh people would get when trying to convey the message: "You have got to be kidding me"

The thought of backing down didn't even cross my mind as he acted in a very defensive way. I was so wound up, scared that he would materialize away in some sort of divine superpower.

"Show me your wings," I asked in a more commanding tone than I had tried to summon.

His posture slouched as he clearly emitted the vibe of someone who was being forced into doing something they would later regret. Then again, I couldn't remember him ever refusing any of my requests.

He turned around and I took a step forward, thinking for a moment that he would dash out of my window and fly off. But I then heard the metallic cling of his coat's zipper lowering.

Had he somehow misunderstood what I was asking of him? Panicking even farther, I had a hard time speaking up.

"Dude…?" I asked in a very feeble voice.

He paused as he reached out to grab the hooded part of his coat and answered in his symphonic voice.

"I may be poor, but I think others may notice if I walk around with huge holes in the back of my parka."

_Oh._ Somehow I had always pictured them as ephemeral source of light and not anything slightly tangible. I broke into a sweat as I seemed to dive head first into a world of unknown.

He kept his back to me as his head appeared out of the orange material, covered in a disarray of golden locks, ironically resembling a halo. The clothing finally touched the ground and I backed into my bedroom door as my eyes met the sight of his bare back.

The paleness and skinniness had been expected, someone who was always covered up and barely ever got any food into his system was bound to possess that complexion. I was momentarily distracted from the bruises I knew shouldn't be covering his form, for there was an injury that was much more prominent. It was the ugly, angry red scars that highlighted his shoulder blades that made me gape in horror and empathy.

The cause of the injury suddenly dawned to me as I saw him ball his fists and I lunged towards him, but it was too late. Wings suddenly blocked the view of his scrawny, bruised form and I marvelled at the painful beauty they held. Merging from light to solid, they were grand and as white as the fresh snow. Or they would have been if not for the crimson of the dried and new blood clashing against the unearthly perfection they should have detained.

I took a few steadying steps towards him as if a closer view would better explain the phenomenon. It was as I was getting closer that I saw how tense he remained.

"Does it hurt?" I unnecessarily asked.

The dimmed down tone of his voice should have been enough of an answer, "Not as much as the first time."

The next question escaped my lips without me even forming it in my mind, "When was that?"

"Friday night."

I clawed at the palms of my hand as I linked the date to the moment I had figured it out. Somehow, someone discovering his identity had forced him to go through the torture of growing wings. And that someone had been me.

I couldn't just stand there and watch him drip blood onto my carpet as he suffered, I had to make amends. At least tell him how sorry I was. I didn't think I would be able to while facing his bloodied back.

"Hey, look at me," I hushed as I made my way over to his trembling silhouette.

For the first time, he did not immediately do as I told him, instead shifting from foot to foot and still facing my bedroom window and not me. Sighing, I silently mouthed his name as If to usher him to face me.

Strangely enough, as if any part of this wasn't strange, he did turn. He managed to keep his face hidden from me as the golden bangs fell over his eyes. The front of him was as beat up as his back. Surely he hadn't gotten these many bruises from the wings? Even in this illogical situation, that would have been most inconsistent.

He must have been in a lot of pain, he was gnawing harshly at his bottom lip and tremors ran through him.

"Ken, just look at me," I asked a second time wishing for his eyes to meet mine.

And as he lifted the bangs from his eyes and raised his chin, I felt as if I relapsed in time. Quite similarly to the first time I heard his voice, seeing his face for the first time was breathtaking. Quite simply, he did look the part of someone who had descended from heaven.

That is of course if you didn't count the black eye and the frightened look in his eyes.

"What happened?"

He ducked his head back into hiding and spoke in what now was a breathless voice, "My father saw my face."

He fumbled with his fingers as he went on, "You can punch me too if you want."

I felt nauseous at the idea of someone wanting to hurt such a beautiful being and was simultaneously greatly taken aback with the self-conscious front he was putting.

He knew me, how could I ever want to hurt him?

Gently, I closed the distance between us and put a hand against the back of his head, tilting his head upwards to reveal his ravishing face. Grazing lightly the bruise shadowing his eye with my other hand, I tried to convey as much honesty as possible and spoke to him.

"Kenny, you're gorgeous."

That should _never_ be the right words to tell one of your best friends, one of your best male friends to boot. They shouldn't feel like they were fixing the situation, they should only make it worse. But oddly enough they were enough for me to reassure him and they felt very real.

The look he gave me broke my heart; as if all of him was exposed to me, that I was free to smash him to bits. Laced into the fragile look was all the suffering his condition was making him go through. The perfume of his blood hit me with force and I kept holding on to the back of his head as I feared my legs would give out and I would pass out from the heavy atmosphere.

I decided I couldn't leave him bloodied and bruised, angel or not he was still Kenny, the friend who had always looked out for me and it was my chance to look out for him.

Opening my door slightly I made sure the coast was clear and then gestured him to follow me, when he hesitated I took a hold of his hand and padded my way across the carpeted hallway. The whole situation was surreal. I was walking in my house, holding the hand of a celestial being who happened to be one of my best friends.

I locked us into the bathroom and he gave me a questioning look, which surprised me because he was still shying away from me without his coat to cover his features. I ignored his glance and adjusted the faucets of the bathtub to get warm water.

He spoke from behind me, "I know you got me to take my top off, but I'm not taking off my pants and getting in that bath."

I didn't turn around because of his words, but because of his voice. I laughed as I saw that he had cupped a hand over his mouth as to mute the pure ring that his voice possessed.

He quickly pulled his hand away and looked away guiltily as I gave him a silly look.

"Just sit down," I commanded reaching in the cabinet to find the ointment we used for bruising.

I had a hard time stifling a second burst of laughter as he tried to move without knocking things over with his wings. He must be as confused by everything as I was. The idea I had of questioning him about his situation now seemed foolish as I realised he must have a hard time answering those questions for himself.

Kneeling in front of his hunched form I lifted his chin and instructed him to close his eyes, which he seemed to do with relief, as I applied the ointment to his black eye. I tried not to stare as I tended to the other bruises, conscious that I was sitting in a locked room with a very much half-naked friend. I tried to not feel how warm and alive he felt under my fingers, but I couldn't avoid it. I felt sick at how attracted I was to him. Not because he was my friend or not even because he was a guy, but because he was clearly suffering and terrified at the idea of me being this close to him. I felt like a jerk, but at the same time I knew someone needed to pamper and comfort him, even if it had to be someone who hadn't the purest of intentions.

"Okay, turn around," I tried to say in a controlled voice and not in an aroused one.

He frowned, but shuffled around anyway, still having a hard time taking up more space with the newly-grown wings than he usually would.

With extreme concentration I dipped a sponge into the soapy water and prepared myself to wash away the blood.

I scrubbed away at the tainted feathers and the barely healing wounds, grimacing as I tried my hardest to make them as clean as they should be. Once I had I thoroughly disinfected the gashes, hoping that somehow they would no longer reopen next time he needed to spread his wings, I simply stared at him, amazed at how this could be possible.

Fingering the feathers I opened my mouth at how they felt against my fingers.

"They're as soft as your hair…" I mused out loud, suddenly realising how much I had liked touching his golden hair earlier.

I was grateful he couldn't see my face as I said it, however I did notice his ears flushing, I imagined most his face would be flaming red.

The heat from his body and from the bathtub wasn't helping me think straight. I kept running my hands through the feathers, not once thinking how weird it must feel for him. It must have been weird; he was still tense and silent.

I was having a hard time grasping how real this was and I asked him if he could move them. Surely, that would assure me of the authenticity of what I was seeing.

He did beat them once, but at his he let out a cry of anguish. Worried, I made sure the wounds hadn't reopened, but that wasn't it. What I hadn't yet understood was the muscular force he needed to use his wings, in any way. I observed the newly-developing back muscles around the feathered wings and silently marvelled at the toll this whole ordeal had taken on his body.

I pressed my palms to his back and was astounded at the cry he let out as he balled his fists. I felt the knots under his skin as I continued to press and knead his back. It was frightening how excited I felt every time I heard his painful exclamations, but I reassured myself that he needed a massage, that he was feeling so sore because of this and that I was making it better. It had nothing to do with my sick obsession of hearing his innocent voice. It had nothing to do with me wanting to touch him.

At some point in time we made it back into my room and we were both silent as he wrapped himself back in his hoodie and retreated his wings. He was embarrassed, I could tell, but there was also something else. Another deep emotion under the fidgeting and stalling.

The self-conscious ways he had revealed earlier came flashing back and I sat on my bed looking straight at him.

"Even if you're an angel, you're still Kenny."

He hadn't yet pulled his hood on as he looked back at me. And I saw the extreme trust he had in my words as he fought a bright smile from lighting up his face.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, more so than having my flesh pressing against his earlier. The emotional connection between us seemed to grow tenfold as we smiled to each other, now sharing a secret.

**I do not own South Park-**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I hated coming off as weak.

But for this last week, there was no denying I was definitely in a weak state.

Keeping a strong composure was next to impossible, so I didn't. Going through these recent changes wasn't only affecting me physically but also emotionally. I was all over the place and couldn't keep myself together. Luckily enough Kyle was there.

Although I wouldn't exactly use the word luckily. There was nothing more demeaning than having the person you were supposed to look after take care of you. There was no way out of it; I had to go through humiliation to avoid hurting his feelings.

Plus, it wasn't all that bad. Having him concerned about me, I had him around more often and could keep unpleasant feelings at bay. And I got to see him every morning before class, just me and him.

I smirked as his timing coincided with my thoughts. He stepped through my window easily; my room had always been the most accessible out of all of ours, being at ground level and having a completely lockless window.

Expecting him, I had already removed my top and was sitting with half-opened eyes on the center of my tiny bed. Despise the small size he came up and sat down next to me, gave me an encouraging smile, took my hand in his and opened his book.

This had been going on for the entire week, confiding in him on Monday that I desperately wanted to use my wings we had established that I should take it slowly and get accustomed to having these. So every morning I woke up and went through searing pain; that is through minimal movement with the wings while sitting down. It was torture and I would have picked death over it. But holding on to Kyle's hand while I went through it made it bearable. It would only be about five minutes per morning, but it was enough to keep me on edge for the rest of the day.

Glancing over to the reading boy I couldn't help but hold on tighter to his hand. I never wanted to let go, but of course every day I was resigned to do exactly that. He had been so helpful, after the initial shock at his discovery I had went through everything I knew with him. The things I always just seemed to sense, the connection he had with my purpose on earth, my anger against the world when I couldn't see him. Everything, but one thing. I hadn't dared to tell him why we were even working this hard to get through all this senseless torture. In all honesty, I was a bit afraid of his response, but surely he deserved the truth for looking out for me like he was doing.

I gripped his hand tighter while shocks ran through my upper back as I shifted the large mass of feathers with the little force I had gained from my deep sleep.

Glancing at his peaceful expression as he read his seemingly boring book, I felt a little bad for bringing up a subject of discussion, but then again it would be easier to maintain my _exercising_ with some sort of distraction.

"You know why I want to fly?" I tried asking with little energy.

"Because it's so cool," he answered automatically not once lifting his gaze from his reading material.

"Nah, because I want to go home," I stated, pretending it didn't mean the world to me, but the shaking that had erupted through my wrist must have indicated him that it indeed was a big deal.

"Your home is here!" he exclaimed, dropping his book suddenly and snapping his face towards my shadowed one.

"You know that's not true…" I went on. My plan backfiring as I tried to return to the pain instead of the gloomy feelings.

"Home is where the heart is," he declared clutching at his heart as if to reinforce the statement.

Bravely meeting his emerald eyes I clutched heartedly at his now sweaty hand. I felt the minutes tick away as I tried to find the true meaning of his words in the depths of his eyes, but it was no use. There was just a gaping feeling in my chest and a terrible ache spreading through my back and his warm hand against mine to assure me that I wasn't slipping away from the world I lived in.

"Where is my heart Kyle?" I asked him sadly, ready to accept any of his answers as the right one.

I felt his hand steadily get warmer as his face heated up with the intensity of the courant passing between us. It seemed that most moments we went through together recently were charged with importance and meaning, I could only hope he also felt it.

"You already know the answer to that, don't you?" he inquired in a bashful demeanour.

I shook my head no and broke the eye contact immediately. Retreating back under my bangs I started toying with the silver cross of my rosary with my other hand. "No. That's why I…"

I didn't complete the sentence, ashamed that my faith was based on such selfish motives.

I was extremely shocked and displeased as he seemed to change subjects.

"Have you ever thought of why you always felt angry?" he asked still not changing his stance or tone of voice.

I ignored his lack of tact in the domain of changing subjects and ambitiously beat my wings in frustration, quickly regretting it as pain stabbed me in the gut.

He sighed, clearly understanding something I had yet to understand. "You know, maybe you feel angry because you're not supposed to be down here."

I grimaced as he seemed to agree with me that I should fly off and forget the land where I grew up, the one that was obviously not meant to shelter me. Once again he exasperatedly let out a shaky breath.

"Maybe you feel okay when I'm with you, because…"

I was still not getting it as he tried to find the right words.

"Because, you know man. Maybe your heart is with me."

He said it as if he might take it back at any moment, as if unsure if he would have to face my wrath or my adoration. Lifting my eyes back up to meet his, I _really_ looked at him. Still clutching my hand, his features strained with nervousness and his breath uneven as thoughts ran through his head rapidly. I suddenly felt very silly; obviously he had always possessed my heart. I don't even know why I had failed to notice it. Had there been nothing left in the world but him, I would have been grateful.

"Definitely," I whispered as I loosened my grip on his hand, no longer fearing of letting go. He was right, we were never really apart, he had a piece of me with him.

Letting out a gust of breath something changed in the colour of his eyes as he leaned towards me. So close that were he to blink, his eyelashes would have probably brushed against my cheeks. "You have my heart as well," he added sweetly, incredibly gentle.

No longer standing the weird feeling in my spine and the feel of his warm breath on my skin, I also leaned towards him and brushed my lips delicately against his. I didn't know why and I hadn't known that I was doing it until I did. But as he kissed me back, things seemed to fall into place. Our hands remaining linked as our lips joined for the first time and my wings seemed to move more freely the closer I felt to him.

Maybe I didn't really need to learn to fly right now after all.

That's how I had started out my day. And as many people will tell you, good things never last. That definitely applies to my positive thoughts. Along the way, they always find a way to twist themselves into destructive, negative thoughts.

My feelings of completion were bashed as a line I hadn't pondered about for years now came rushing back to the front of my mind.

'_Once an angel's task is finished it will cease to exist.'_

What was I doing? Toying with people although I knew my time was counted. Ignoring what was going on around me I discreetly peeked at my hands, imagining the tips of my fingers melting away as my feathers would when I touched them. Terrifying myself without even trying, I tugged my hands out of my view, avoiding nourishing my paranoid thoughts.

Leaving my heart with Kyle was one thing; to take his was irrational and stupid. Not that I wasn't happy to kiss him and spend time with him, actually it was the only thing worthwhile in this life. But that wasn't really what I was meant to do. Was it? It always came down to that, didn't it? Asking myself what I was supposed to be doing and therefore avoiding what I longed to be doing.

When lunch time rolled around I excused myself to go to the bathroom and while I made my way to the restroom something pulled me in the opposite direction. Arriving outside, I took a breath and kept on walking. Drowning in my contemplating thoughts I hadn't realised where I was heading until the church came into view. It was surprising that this was the second week in a row that I had gone on a Friday, a very rare occurrence.

Going through normal Saturday night routine, as if it weren't actually a Friday afternoon, I did what I had to do with little thoughts.

At the end of my confession, I dared once again to speak out of line.

"What if…" I started, knowing that I was mostly talking to myself and that Father Maxi surely wouldn't supply much help. "Let's say, if I had a mission to complete, but there was something else I was also compelled to do…"

I let my face fall into my hands as I felt the uselessness of my actions well up inside of me.

"What should I do?"

I was surprised as Father Maxi asked me to elaborate. Not hesitating at all to tell the truth, I went on.

"If I felt there was something important I was meant to do, but there was something just as important I wanted to do. Which do I pick?"

I smiled as my voice was muffled by my hands, I had never been comfortable with my stripped down voice; it felt much more familiar to talk from behind a barrier.

The grown up's voice asked me what I thought what I was meant to do was.

And I groaned as I feebly tried to explain that I had no idea what it was I was meant to do.

"Then maybe they are one and the same," I smiled sadly because I knew that couldn't be. My mission was supposed to send me back to heaven or wherever it was that angels went and what I wanted to do was to stay with Kyle.

"What if I were to love someone that I shouldn't."

Of course this was followed by his habitual silence. I should have felt bad using the confessional for guidance, but it was something I desperately needed.

"What if I can't fulfill my true purpose because I love him too much?" I asked on the verge of tears.

His answer was only the usual closing sentence.

I walked out still un-hooded in an attempt to feel some liberation; school must have been almost over by now. Instead of finding answers, I was under the impression that the questions were multiplying in my head and keeping me from moving forward.

I made it back to school grounds and watched as a furious Kyle stomped towards me, the first out of school probably in a rush to find me. He must have been angry at me for not telling him I was skipping. He was right to be angry, for everything he did for me in the last week he certainly didn't deserve to be treated so dismissively, which I hadn't been doing on purpose.

Finally reaching me he opened his mouth to start screaming, but I didn't give him the chance. Stuffing my hands into my pockets I leaned my upper body forward and sealed his mouth with my own. Giving him a livelier kiss than this morning I smiled as he unclenched his fits and I felt his anger wash away.

As soon as we would part I knew I would fall back into self-questioning and endless worries. There was only one solution then, keep him with me. I smiled as I finally gave myself a task I would complete willingly.

**I sti-ill don't own South Park. C:**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I had snuck into his room that morning, like I had the entire week. But unlike his usual tendency of ushering me away in an effort to hide his evident lack of force after his physical conditioning, he had somehow roped me into spending the whole day with him. Forcing me to cancel plans and change my routine.

I should have been happy, this is what I wanted, getting to know all of him and his secrets, but he seemed just a tad suspicious. Idly, I wondered if this was some sort of torture, considering how he seemed to flaunt his magnificent face the whole time we were alone. It was probably some sort of sick game, _"Let's see how long before Kyle snaps and kisses me again."_

My palms got slightly sweatier as the kisses we had shared yesterday flashed through my mind. As soon as I was left alone I felt horrible and twisted, knowing full well I shouldn't be diving into that kind of relationship with him. But as soon as he was put in the same room as me, that was long forgotten and the only feeling that drove me was the one of wanting to pull him into my arms.

Pivoting my computer chair around I frowned as my suspicions were confirmed. There he was, lying flat on my bed cover and golden hair sprawled across my white pillowcase, all muscles relaxed and an expression of bliss illuminating his angelic face. Obviously, he was trying to seduce me. And quite obviously, it wasn't failing.

He hummed slightly, completely relaxed and that was cue to my pencil snapping in half. I looked down dumbfounded at the remains of the pencil; I hadn't noticed the tension filling my body and especially my forearms. His eyes opened lazily at the sharp sound and I thought I would die of embarrassment as he asked me what had happened.

I tried to come up with something, but I was a stuttering mess as I felt the heat rise up to my face.

He leaned up on his elbows to get a better view of me and asked again, "Dude, you okay?"

"_I'm fine, apart from the fact that the person I am hopelessly attracted to is lounging on my bed, _my _bed, in a totally blissed-out manner and I am supposed to be doing work, but I can't because he's on my bed!"_

"Didn't you say we would do our schoolwork together, why are you taking a nap?" I answered instead, blaming the pencil accident on anger and not on lovesick longing.

His head fell back and I bit down a groan of aggravation as I thought of the way my pillow would smell tonight.

"You _are_ doing schoolwork," he drawled out as he attempted to melt into my bed.

"And you are not working because…?" I asked, slightly relieved to be thinking of something else than the fact that we were alone in my room.

He sighed as he propped himself back up, looking my way but not meeting my eyes, "I was only concentrating in school so that we could go to college together. Had I known all I had to do was open my mouth to get a stupid scholarship, I wouldn't even have bothered."

At first I thought he had said it so softly in fear of my anger, but it soon became clear that he was embarrassed to admit that he had been working so hard for _me_.

I dropped my gaze too, suddenly just as embarrassed of how thoughtful he had been.

"Don't get so cocky you didn't even get that scholarship yet," I said through gritted teeth, still trying to pass off my feelings of affection as ones of anger.

"Please…" he started, rolling onto his stomach, "No one can resist my voice, not even you," he slurred and an all too seductive tone.

He gave me gleaming bedroom eyes as he said it and I all but turned around at full-speed, looking back to my unfinished essay that I had typed up. I tried to read over my words but couldn't keep out of my head that he was right behind me, still on my bed and being way too flirtatious.

I felt my throat go dry as he called out for me, "Kyle, c'mon stop working and pay attention to me," he said in a childish, yet alluring voice.

I kept on pretending to read my work as a feeling of distress welled up inside of me. _"Maybe it would be okay to kiss him again…"_ I told myself as I started giving in, but then I remembered who it was on the bed. Yes it was good-looking, adorable, charming Kenny, but it was also childhood friend, tough, irreplaceable Kenny. I couldn't screw up what we had, no matter how much I wanted to he-

But my thoughts were interrupted as a pillow collided with my head with unexpectedly brutal force. Stunned, I turned around to find him sitting cross-legged with a genuinely surprised expression that he had hit his target with that much might.

Sitting up with now real anger I couldn't help but to scream at him, "Dude what the hell is wrong with you? You could have destroyed my computer! You do not throw a pillow at someone's workplace!"

At this he only replied with a mute "But it's just a pillow…"

Feeling my usual passionate and violent side bubble up I grabbed the pillow and bounced on the bed, feeling him fall backwards, I shoved the pillow into his painfully surprised face and grinned in victory.

Though it was short-lived as I noticed that he did not struggle at all, I had expected at least some arm flailing. I pulled it back, panicked at the idea that I had knocked him unconscious or something. But I was only greeted by a flushed and once again surprised face.

I gave him a questioning look as I brushed the stray strands of hair from his face, hoping to identify the mysterious reaction. Then, it was my turn to be stunned as he offered me a grateful look for releasing him. It was then that I understood his previous expression, one of fear.

I felt nausea hit me as I realised horsing around with him would only remind him of the beatings he had taken in his life.

I let my hands drop uselessly as guilt flooded through me, "Ken… I wouldn't…"

But I couldn't finish as his grateful smile still remained plastered onto his face.

"You're paying attention to me!" he exclaimed after a brief moment of silence.

I felt the colour drain from me as I spat out an "Idiot!" at his overdramatic ways.

He smiled knowingly up to me as I took in what I had gotten myself into. My previous thoughts suddenly morphed into something even scarier.

"_The person I am hopelessly attracted to is lounging on my bed, _my _bed, in a totally blissed-out manner and I am utterly straddling them."_

I froze as I took in the position. Him lying beneath me, completely submissive, as he panted in hopes of getting air back into his body, cheeks flushed by the sudden movement and me, straddling over him in an aggressive stance, the fire of my previous frustration still lighting up my features.

I would have scrambled away, but he was so close now that I felt too drawn to him to possibly run away. I looked at him intently as confusion flooded his features, probably trying to figure out my shift in mood.

It should not have been an option, I should really not have considered it as my only option, but I did as I bent down to meet his lips. I felt like a drug addict in need of a fix as I finally kissed him, the first time today. I couldn't help the noises of appreciation as I plunged my hands into his unimaginably soft hair. He kissed me back just as fiercely, tangling his tongue with my own and I completely shut out the rest of my world as I was transfixed by the person beneath me.

As we continued our heated caresses there was no unfinished homework in my mind and as I let my fingers trail up the heated flesh of his abdomen there was no younger brother right on the other side of the thin wall. There was only Kenny and his squirming body under mine.

Distantly, a thought echoed through my brain that I was getting carried away as I pushed the orange material off of his frame, revealing the torso I had been unwillingly tearing my gaze from the entire week as he suffered through his angelic transformation.

I let my hands stroke the healing bruises that covered his pale skin and kept my mouth on his, as he brought his arms up encircling my dominant form and letting out a shaky sigh.

"Kyle," he whispered as he let his head fall backwards and his arms wrap tighter around me. I too had to catch my breath as he gave me a clear view of the delicate arch of his neck. Feeling as if my heart would burst out of my chest I voiced his name back.

As the call of his name reached his ears I felt him tug mercilessly at my still cloth-covered back. And then the echo that I had indistinctly heard at the back of my mind came back full blast as the unexpected happened. I stopped mid-motion as I was going to swoop down and catch his lips again, awestruck that the normal Kenny had been replaced by a winged one.

He mouthed an "oups" as he smiled up to me sheepishly; obviously just as surprised as I was that they had burst out all of a sudden. Except I wasn't feeling sheepish at all, I felt disgusting. Scrambling off the mattress as I should have as soon as I had landed there, I got up to my feet as quickly as possible.

It had all happened in an instant and he gave me a glossy-eyed look as he tried to comprehend what was going through my head.

"This is wrong," I muttered still trying to catch my breath from the moment of passion.

I knew he didn't need an explanation but he still asked a meek "why" as I pasted on a distant façade.

"You're an angel!" I shouted out a little hysterically, slowly gaining back conscience of the environment and afraid that Ike had heard my previous shout.

He brought his knees up to his chest, hiding his undressed form and hanging his head lowly as rejection slapped him across the face.

"You said I was still Kenny even though I was…" he fumbled with his words, breathing them into his clothed knees, but I had largely enough practice at understanding his distorted voice.

"Defiling God's messenger is not okay Kenny, no matter who it is!" forgetting quickly my previously concern at being loud.

He flushed slightly as he adopted a frustrated expression, "So you only believe in God when it's convenient?" he bit out, still hurt by my actions.

I took a deep breath, smiling slightly at the situation. A frowning winged Kenny hunched over on my bed while questioning my faith.

"There's a half-naked angel on my bed, it's going to be a little hard to refute God's existence," I said, my feelings of self-disgust creeping away as I concentrated on his cute childish manners.

He snapped his head up, probably to retort with some witty and thought-up argument, but lost his words as he saw that I was back to an easy-going mood. Although he did duck his head back down as he met the sight of my tousled hair and still flushed complexion.

Gingerly, I made my way back over to him and fingered his feathers lightly, trying to get him to look at me. He didn't and so I took a seat next to him and patted his head with what I hoped was obvious fondness.

He breathed in deeply and I took it as a cue to speak reassuring words to quell his anguish.

"I don't need to believe in God, I have you," I said sincerely.

He met my eyes with his tear-soaked ones and offered me a watery smile. And wings or not, I kissed him again with reignited desire.

The next day I carefully avoided him, leaving my house at the earliest hour possible as to hide away from him. As per usual I was being a coward. I didn't want to feel the way I did for him, he seemed so light and breakable when I held him, I didn't want to taint him with my sinful thoughts. Even though I had said he was still Kenny and he really was, he somehow appeared more and more as a sinless celestial being, someone that I wasn't good enough for. Someone I shouldn't be falling in love with.

So I tried to keep clear from him for the whole day, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with my thoughts.

It proved to be pointless as I watched the sun sink in the sky and I realised I had spent my day aimlessly wandering around and solving none of my inner conflicts.

As I walked by the commerce street, I noticed all the shops closed since it was Sunday evening; there were no pioneers but myself and another. As I recognised who it was I froze up and turned around sharply ready to walk away.

I had always used the excuse of my Jewish heritage to minimalize my interactions with the man, but truth be told it was because I felt uneasy when he was around that I daren't speak to him.

Somehow he succeeded at catching up with me and starting off a conversation. The topic quickly turned to the boy I had in mind all day long and my stomach lurched at the dangerous glint in the older man's eyes.

"You are one of Kenneth's friends?" the priest asked with doubtful sweetness.

I nodded solemnly, wanting nothing more than to end the conversation.

He moved closer and dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper and I was astounded at his words," Does he have any history of retro cognition?"

I shook my head in a frantic movement, suddenly scared at the menacing tone he was taking. The fear had been justified as he pushed me against the nearest shop's wall and pressed a switchblade he had pocketed out to my neck. I gulped audibly as his voice piped up with a new edge.

"Don't play dumb."

He pressed the blade closer as my head smashed back onto the wall, trying to get away.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I silently cursed as the panic bled through my words.

"Retro cognition. Does he have knowledge of past events he shouldn't have?" he continued, craziness transpiring out of his menacing form.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I choked out a positive answer. Thinking back to all the things he had known about me I had never had to tell him.

Perhaps he was just acting this crazy because he had pieced together that there had been an angelic visitor in his church for years now, that must be it…

"And you Jewish people don't do anything when you notice someone is possessed?" he growled out in an annoyed tone.

Now I was confused,I tried to convey the feeling as I let my eyebrows shoot up. Obviously he picked up on it and laughed bitterly.

"Are you that daft you hadn't noticed? When I spoke to him in Latin, he responded back fluently although he had never studied it," he started voice rising with his temper, "he comes to me and tells me he feels unreasoned anger and wrath at a daily frequency, his voice is too high-pitched for a human being" he breathed out as he kept the blade steadily up next to my throat.

"Obviously a case of demonic possession and I'll stop at nothing to make sure no one will halt me from eliminating him," he looked down at the metal pressed against my skin with a frenzied look, "Including you."

I blanked out slightly; revolted by his false accusations to the holy being that was Kenny. I didn't want to die at the hand of the sick bastard, but there was nothing I could do.

In times like these, the only thing you have is faith. And of course my faith had just been rekindled by a beautiful blond.

Therefore it was no surprise, that he would be the one to save me from the frightening situation. It all happened faster than a blink of the eye. Father Maxi must not have even seen what had scooped me away from him; he wouldn't have believed that it was a flying angel sent from above even if someone had told him.

As soon as I was lifted up I was dropped into cool snow, which seemed kilometers away from the previous scene. I looked to my right, noticing the way he had finally punctured his good old hoodie with his wings and how he was shaking all over. I tackled him as he tried to regain his spirits.

"You flew!" I exclaimed, forgetting about threat that had been hanging over my head a moment ago.

"And it hurt like a bitch" he replied with a tired smile.

I hugged him closer, the near-death experience filling me with courage.

"I've been looking for you all day, obviously I can't leave you alone," he said, summoning the last of his playfulness to tease me.

I smiled gratefully and whispered a faint "Thank God"; I could wait until later to tell him he would probably no longer be able to step into his sanctuary. For now we could celebrate his newfound control over his angelic body.

**Don't own South Park C:  
Thank you all for the kind reviews n_n**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

As the sun rose farther up into the sky, I told myself perhaps he wouldn't come this morning. It was at that precise moment, when I decided I should probably make my way to school without him, that it dawned to me that my only wearable piece of clothing had become… Well, not wearable.

I made my way to the chaos that was my closet and rummaged around, desperately searching for a sowing kit or anything that would remotely work at fixing the so called hoodie. As I pulled the worn out material to my eyes, I faced the truth that it was beyond repair. Toying at the unravelling seams I noticed how the holes in the back had been so large they had met and now only formed a giant gap at the back, leaving the coat backless and literally transforming it from a top to sheer fabric. I frowned at this knowledge, knowing full well that I couldn't fix it into something I could wear with so little fabric. Tossing it aside, I felt panic overwhelm my senses. There was no way out of this one, unless I borrowed a piece of clothing from someone else in the household, but that would mean…

I glanced up at the door, knowing I could not exit that way if I wanted to avoid my father. Gnawing at my lower lip, I considered the open window and felt a shiver run up my spine at the dangers of going out basically topless in hopes of borrowing someone else's clothes.

I kept furrowing around the mess of the closet, hoping for some miraculous apparition of clothing. I quickly discarded the option of staying in, imagining Kyle defenseless out there. I still wasn't sure what had happened yesterday, my senses had kicked in telling me where to go, but as usual I did not know why. The glint of the metal against his skin was the only thing I noticed as I plunged for him, afterwards when I had questioned him about what had happened he had refused to answer and told me he was too shaken to tell me right away. The way he kept shifting his eyes clearly told me otherwise and I had had a restless night imagining a thousand and one scenarios of who was Kyle's attacker.

The sense of panic I had been feeling quickly piqued up as I feared Kyle was not here yet because he was in danger. With horror, I continued causing havoc in the short space of the closet, destroying everything that came into my hands with uncontrollable force. Images of Kyle pale and bloody plagued my horror-stricken mind as my palm slid against a sharp edge of a drawer and my own blood started oozing out of my hand. As I continued my search, the blood stained most of the closet's contents and air became difficult to inhale as I pictured Kyle helpless.

Until I felt a hand land heavily on my left shoulder and I literally jumped out of my skin. Fearing that the intruder would see my face I dropped into some sort of foetal position.

The sound of his laughter was the most beautiful thing I had heard in a long time; quelling my worries and easing the panic out of me. I got up to a normal sitting position as I smiled up to him. He did not return it.

"What… What happened?" he asked, voice guarded as he looked around my shaking form.

_Oh._ I glanced behind my shoulder, wincing slightly at the messy, broken, bloody sight that my closet had become.

"I was worried," I deadpanned as the truth made it out of my body without my consent.

He landed heavily on the floor next to me with a concerned expression and I finally noticed the package he was holding preciously in his arm.

He looked at me, eyebrows raised in question and I understood that he was wondering about my worries.

"Well, you're late," I started, my eyes lazily landing on the increasing daylight from the outside world, "And you almost got killed yesterday," I finished seriously.

"Don't exaggerate," he replied sternly, but I didn't let him a chance to continue with his train of thought.

"I'm not."

He clutched the package to his small chest as he seemed to consider the truth in my words. I was only slightly aware of us missing the school bus as I scrutinized him for sings of shock.

"Are you going to tell me who attacked you?" I asked with discernable impatience, "After all, I _did_ save you," I added with a tinge of bitterness.

Then he turned to me and looked at me with sincere apple-green eyes, his lips turning downwards slightly and his eyelashes shadowing the deep emotion of his gaze. I was sure he was about to answer me with the truth, but that was not the case.

"I don't think you should go back to church Ken."

I groaned loudly as I stuffed my face into my palms, quickly removing it as I remembered the blood covering them. Rubbing at the blood stains that were not present on my cheeks, I looked away with annoyance as I spoke up.

"I know you were upset when I didn't tell you right away about going there, but now is really not the time."

I was really irritated when I looked back to him to see that his expression hadn't budged an inch.

"The person who attacked me…" he started, adding an unnecessary long pause to his words, before speaking up with a sorrowful voice "Was your pastor."

I tried to react, I really did. But the absolute lack of logic and sense in his statement had taken me off-guard. For the longest time, no one said anything. Then he put the package flat against his knees, revealing what was inside.

"I was late because I went to buy you this," he said affectionately, "Here I'll help you put it on," he said when I failed to acknowledge what was going on around me.

The material was soft and thick, of much better quality than anything else I had ever worn. The orange of the new coat was a thousand times more vibrant than the shade my previous one had adopted in the last years. In a gesture of comfort he pulled the hood over my slumped head and the fur surrounding it tickled at my cheeks and the tears that had fallen without me noticing them. I wrapped my arms around myself as I treated the new coat as a security blanket, a reminder of Kyle if we were ever to be separated.

He still had that serious look, confirming that he hadn't said nearly as much as he needed to. Guessing the events that had occurred I took his hand firmly, offering my gratitude in the depth of my eyes, but not in my words.

"He attacked you because of me."

He treated it as a question although it hadn't been one.

"Yeah."

After that, he had spilled out every word of his encounter with the man. We went to school, only a few minutes late and we went to class as we usually would.

The only difference was that I had the weight of the religious figure's accusation on my shoulders. The security my new parka offered was only of small comfort in the face of the truth the pastor had revealed.

Thoughts from a few weeks ago rang in my head as the day advanced. Of all my unreasoned hate, I had always explained my hatred for Father Maxi with the fact that he could see who I truly was.

Was I really some sort of demon…?

That was the only question I kept asking myself throughout the day, as I increasingly pulled the brand new drawstrings to hide more and more of my facial features.

During the whole day Kyle had seemed to return the watchful eye I had once given him in the past. So it was no surprise when we were asked to team up for an assignment in our English class that he picked up his chair and made his way towards my desk.

He started on the work, not once looking up to me, as if letting me time to decide if I wanted to confide in him or not.

"Do you think I'm possessed?" I asked him out of the blue as I stubbornly kept my gaze away from his and found some interest in the usual scenery of our schoolyard.

"I hope that wasn't a serious question," he replied in a hushed tone, as to not attract attention to our important conversation.

I grimaced as if to convey that I was indeed serious.

"Dude, you're some kind of holy angel and you're asking me if I think you're possessed?"

The irony was lost on me as I felt myself sink into deeper worries.

"Lucifer was an angel…" I murmured, thinking back to the religious works I had read in the previous years.

"You're a fucking idiot," he said sternly as he leaned back down on his work.

But it wasn't really that far-fetched, was it? An angel who wasn't sent, but born on Earth, who felt endless hatred for almost everyone and that went through continuous suffering. I was never the holy and pure angel Kyle had thought me to be. The only person I really cared about had almost been killed because of my carelessness; surely I was a horrible being and not a good-hearted one.

"You really believe that…?" he asked finally with genuine surprise.

Slowly I turned my head back to his and nodded dejectedly.

His eyes slanted at this and I was scared that his hold would be, once again, too firm and that another one of his pencils would break.

"This is why I hate religion."

I frowned at this, taken aback. No matter if I was really possessed; I had found true comfort in holding my faith close to me. The church had felt much more like home than my crappy house ever did.

"Don't say that," I began testily as his eyes narrowed even farther.

"God damn it you know it's true! They make a fucking angel feel unwelcome!"

I saw his anger flare up and was amazed at how soft his voice remained, in fear of revealing my true identity to our class.

"But Kyle…" I gave him a soothing look as my heart warmed considerably as I felt the intimacy between us, "There were times I was so lost. Religion was the only place I fit into."

It registered at the back of my mind how pathetic my words had sounded, but I really just wanted to ease Kyle's anger.

"That's exactly why they shouldn't be treating you this way," he said, sadness replacing the anger, "You have so much faith in what they tell you and they go ahead and treat you like some sort of demon."

"But maybe I am," I stopped as I caught the dangerous look in his eyes.

"Kenneth," I shivered as I recalled that Father Maxi would also use my given name instead of my nickname.

"You're the most beautiful person I have ever met," he said leaning his head towards mine, "And not just your face…"

"You're always looking out for me," he added, his lips dangerously close to mine in a room filled with schoolmates.

"You're a fucking angel for god's sake," I could now feel his breath mingling with mine as he continued speaking.

"And I'm so in love with you it's not even funny," he kept on talking as if to distract me from the words he had just uttered, "There's no way you're some satanic creature."

My heart skipped a few beats as I basked in the glow of his words.

I was about to whisper it back, tell him just how much I loved him. But something stopped me.

And in that instant my place on Earth made perfect sense and the fear that had been plaguing me for a few hours now felt silly. I was an angel and I knew why I was down here.

I felt my heart tearing in half as it all came together and I earnestly wished that the answer I had been running after did not exist. I tore my gaze away from his trying to plaster a contemplative look on my face.

I tried to pretend I hadn't understood what he had quickly told me and tried my best to hold back my tears.

**I don't own South Park C:**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

No matter who you are or how strong you think you are; you can't do everything by yourself.

You can't eternally keep yourself hidden away and try as best as you can to get by.

At one point or another we all need someone on our side, ready to put their life on the line for our own.

I hadn't considered opening myself completely to someone as a possibility for the longest time, but as soon as I understood there was someone willing to keep me close by forever, I had.

You would have thought I was satisfied with finding that person. But day after day I yearned for him to open himself as I thought I was doing for him.

I had to desperately squeeze those rare moments out of him. Simply put he did not seem to want to share himself with me, although he was always willing to let me open myself to him.

At first I had pondered on the fact that he needed some time, considering he had lived a life of secret identity and self-questioning. Then when he had been banned from the church, I feared he would be too badly scarred by rejection to be close to me right away. When we left for college, it became clear that he was content with observing me and only replying with enigmatic smiles when I searched for answers on his inner states.

But throughout that first year of college, I was the happiest I could be. My not-so-secret fear of leaving South Park had completely evaporated when he had announced that he would be going with me. But then again, how could I not be happy, having my lover as a roommate and present in my day-to-day life.

It almost didn't bother me that he rarely spoke of his divine origins, of how he felt, of his faith, of his relationship with his family or that he never did tell me he loved me, although I told him several times a day. _Almost_.

After an entire year of college, it felt as if he knew everything of me. It also felt as if he always left me hanging, constantly wondering what could possibly be on his mind.

Tonight was different though. His choir had performed for the end of the school year and I had had the privilege of seeing him up there, completely revealing himself, his face and his voice to the entire school. Just as I would when he sang in the shower every night, I felt soothing ease induce itself into my soul.

It was different because I really did feel close to him in that instant, although I was in the middle of a crowd of students. The same students who shied and scampered away from him in the halls; the kid whose face was hidden, but rumour had it he had an inhuman and off-settling appearance under the hood (most likely spread by other choir members). All of those students had their breath knocked out of them as he opened his mouth, but I could only let my fondness grow at his unguarded stance up on stage.

There was no denying that I had been on edge these last few weeks and that mostly I could not push away the dread at his lack of response at my questioning of how he would manage to get a plane ticket back home. He generally waved it off with something like «I'll figure it out."

But the emotion that ran through me during his performance was enough to the dull the uneasiness and have some cooling effect on my anxiety.

After the show we walked around the campus, I surveyed the area knowing full well that I would be back soon enough and was slightly comforted at seeing my family once again. The sun was down, but the air was still warm, we had always appreciated the sunny and hot days much more than any of our school mates.

I had been so caught up in absorbing the scenery that I had been completely taken off guard when I finally looked back at him.

As soon as he had gained full control of his wings, he had kept them under cover almost constantly. It was only in heated moments behind our room's closed door or when he got caught up in particularly painful memories that they would spur out without his consent.

But as I gaped at him, it was clear enough that he wasn't aroused or tortured, he only had that quaint, sad smile gracing his features. And suddenly dread filled the back of my mind and put my sense on alert again. Standing there with his wings out, seemingly not worried that anyone could walk out and see him or even that he had just ruined his choir uniform, the sight was strangely familiar.

"What's wrong?" I asked, barely keeping my voice from cracking.

He played with the rosary on top of his shirt as he kept the same smile glued on his face, unchanging as if he hadn't heard my worried question.

"Hey," he started, with similar dread in his tone.

I could only nod as my eyes remained glued to the crucifix he was twisting around in his nimble fingers.

"There was a time last year we spoke about it a lot, but I haven't told you anything about it in a while… Actually I kind of already know why I'm down here," he continued eyes still downcast as his silhouette seemed to slump under the pressure of the moment.

It was with bitterness that I noticed my wish for him to open up was definitely being granted, but that something was off.

He finally managed to link eyes with me and his already naturally high voice went an octave higher, "Do you think of us as soul mates?"

I managed another nod; although I agreed with the statement with my whole heart and that the small motion did not convey all the love I bore for him.

"Even though I'm an angel and you're a human?"

"That doesn't matter," I shot out, suddenly scared of where this conversation was heading.

"You're right, we were meant to be," he said, the words feeling almost light in the midst of the heavy instant.

He took a step forward and I was almost compelled to take a step back, put an end to the conversation and be satisfied with the former secretive Kenny and not this serious and terrifying Kenny.

Gingerly he pulled off of the string of beads that framed his neck and wordlessly placed it around my own. He kept his hands around my neck, seemingly trying to prolong the moment as he smiled lovingly.

"Ken, that's yours," I choked out, wanting nothing more than to ignore the signals that were pointing to his departure.

"I was born on Earth to see you and tell you…" he took a shaky breath and I felt the touch of the fingers that had been grazing my neck dimming as he spoke of his purpose.

"That I love you and that I'll be waiting for you."

Slowly I took notice of a few things happening at once; his feet lifting off the ground, his aura of light slowly consummating his body, his hands fading away from me and the widening of his gentle smile. I smashed my lips against his and gripped at his torn dress-shirt pulling him back to firm ground, resisting his departing form. But some unknown force was pulling him away as he strangely dissipated into pure light that clashed with the night sky I used to love.

"No, no stay with me," I tried begging unreasonably as he looked down on me helplessly.

And with a second "I love you" he faded away, the light blown out as a candle.

I was left alone, the soothing in my heart still present, but a new noticeably large gap gracing it as well. I had known it was coming for a while now, but it felt like too much at the moment.

I crumbled up into a ball as I prayed a God I did not believe in to bring him back. Hot tears made their way down my cheeks and the thought of killing myself ringing in my head in hopes of reaching him sooner.

But as soon as the thoughts bubbled up, cold metal touched my skin and I looked down to find his beloved rosary.

_I'll be waiting for you_

The sobs died down as I took a hold of the crucifix and thought fondly of him. I thought back to other words he had told me in the past year.

I smiled gratefully, feeling new tears slide down my face. He had once told me religion had been his link to where he came from.

He hadn't really left me alone, he had left me with a link to where I was heading. To him.

**That's it C:  
I still don't own South Park.**


End file.
